


I Relate to the Sparrow

by Lothiriel84



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, Father Figures, Friendship, Gen, MJN Air Is A Family, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: “Arthur,” Douglas clears his throat, the beginnings of a mildly problematic intuition stirring at the back of his mind. “You do know what ‘attractive’ means, right?”“Of course I do,” Arthur scoffs, about as offended as he ever gets, which is to say, hardly at all. “What do you take me for?”
Relationships: Douglas Richardson & Arthur Shappey
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	I Relate to the Sparrow

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from Susannah Pearse's eponymous [song cycle](https://www.susannahpearse.co.uk/post/146860554596/the-camden-fringe-2016-i-relate-to-the-sparrow).

They’re sitting in an overpriced café in the main concourse of Prague Airport, enjoying the momentary respite from their employer’s sharp tongue – just a spot of Arthur-wrangling, nothing Carolyn couldn’t sort out in the blink of an eye, should she want to, but as they’re genuinely quite early there’s no real objection to letting the boy roam freely around the duty free area just a little longer. Not precisely the brightest of chaps, Arthur, but he’s really not all that bad, when you get to know him; and for all that he’s already witnessed countless displays of Carolyn’s maternal exasperation at her son’s misplaced attempts at making himself useful, he suspects no one would ever find the bodies of anyone who was foolish enough to dare touch a hair on Arthur’s head.

“What do you reckon?” Nigel nudges him, eyes darting sideways as a gorgeous specimen of the flight attendant persuasion walks past them, her pristine uniform doing a rather marvellous job at putting her long legs and delectable backside on display.

“Hmm. Not too bad,” he agrees easily, taking a sip of his alcohol-free passion fruit martini. “Reminds me of one of my old flames, actually.”

Well, not so much an old flame as a mutually enjoyable layover in Bern, somewhen between wife number one and wife number two. He’s certainly had his fair share of fun in his brief spells of singlehood in between marriages, not to mention his early days as a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed first officer at Air England.

“What about that one?” he drawls at length, glass subtly raised to point at a stunning redhead strolling down the concourse, her low-cut dress leaving very little to the imagination. “Ten to one says she wouldn’t think twice about jumping into bed with an airline captain.”

“Well, we could scarcely call ourselves ‘an airline’, but I take your point,” Nigel concedes at length. “Carol’s best friend’s a redhead, and she’s always on about her latest conquests. Makes you wonder, you know.”

The rustle of several bags signals Arthur’s approach, mercifully without any sign of an irritable Carolyn hot on his heels for a change. “Hello, chaps,” he greets them, looking if anything even jollier than his usual self, which is something of an accomplishment when it comes to someone whose entire personality could be summed up as ‘perpetually cheerful’. “Did you know they have _four_ different types of Toblerone in the duty free shop?”

At his side, Nigel sighs almost imperceptibly, and downs the rest of his virgin mojito. It’s not that he doesn’t get on well enough with Arthur, he even told Douglas as much on the first leg of one of their earliest intercontinental flights together; he just happens to find constant chatter a little tiresome, and who can blame him when he’s married to the most talkative woman this side of the English Channel. Not that Douglas ever had the occasion to exchange more than a few pleasantries with Carol, which is just as well, given how Helena seems to hold some kind of long-standing grudge against the woman for reasons she never actually cared to explain.

“Care for a spot of bird-watching, Arthur?” he says instead, keen on forestalling any potential diplomatic issue between his captain and their employer’s only son and heir. “Nigel and I spotted a few truly remarkable specimens earlier on.”

Arthur blinks, confusion apparent on his face. “Birds? How did they even get in here?”

“They’re not actual birds, Arthur,” Nigel explains, only just managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “We’re talking about women.”

“Ooh, I get it,” Arthur nods, plainly not getting it in the slightest. “What about them?”

“Attractive women,” Douglas clarifies, as if talking to a twelve year old. “It’s who can get most in however long it takes for Carolyn to hunt us down and shout us back to our respective duties.”

“Brilliant. How about that girl sitting on the bench, the one with the book? She looks like she’d give really good hugs.”

The two pilots exchange a surreptitious, disbelieving look at that, which goes completely over Arthur’s head. Each to their own and all that jazz, but for all that he’s got a good thirty years on her, Douglas can think of at least a dozen plausible scenarios off the top of his head in which he’d very much rather take a rain check.

“Suit yourself,” Nigel shrugs at length, twirling his empty glass so that the melting ice cubes clink against one another. “I can see at least four other people from where I’m sitting that I’d rather take to bed, and I’m not even counting that gentleman in the indigo suit over there.”

“How do you mean?” Arthur frowns, looking like he’s slowly and earnestly puzzling over the meaning of that sentence in his head.

“I mean,” Nigel huffs, pinching at the bridge of his nose in what is most likely a desperate attempt to keep himself from snapping at his boss’ offspring. “We’re not all straight here. I believe we’ve been through this before.”

“Oh!” Arthur’s eyes widen, almost comically, and then he’s shaking his head. “No, not the you being bisexual bit, I know _that_. I meant the bit about taking random strangers to bed.”

“Arthur,” Douglas clears his throat, the beginnings of a mildly problematic intuition stirring at the back of his mind. “You do know what ‘attractive’ means, right?”

“Of course I do,” Arthur scoffs, about as offended as he ever gets, which is to say, hardly at all. “What do you take me for?”

As luck would have it, Carolyn picks that exact moment to emerge from the crowd, phone still in hand. “Ah, there you are, drivers. I bring good news.”

“Absolutely not, Carolyn,” Nigel interrupts her before she can get another word in. “I don’t care if it’s the Queen herself, tomorrow’s our first day off in weeks, and I’m not going to give up on that.”

“O ye of little faith,” Carolyn sighs dramatically, and just like that, the entire conversation is forgotten.

A week later they’re on standby, and it’s just the two of them in the Portakabin – Nigel having apparently decided he feels lucky enough to brave the airfield canteen for a latte and whatever it is they’re trying to pass off today as pastries – when Arthur approaches him, and from the look on his face, he’s been ruminating about this for quite a long time.

“Douglas,” the boy begins, somewhat hesitantly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he sighs, putting his pencil down and pushing the crosswords further away on his desk. “Go on.”

“I mean, it’s kind of a personal question. You don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”

“I’m not telling you how I got your mother’s Talisker off the plane, if that’s what you’re planning to ask,” he ventures, and that seems enough to momentarily derail Arthur’s train of thought.

“Wasn’t going to ask about that, actually,” Arthur shakes his head at length. “You know that game you and Nigel were playing in Prague?”

Douglas nods, slowly. “Bit sexist, I’ll give you that. Still, just a spot of harmless fun, hey? No harm done.”

“Yes, no, I mean – I’m still not sure what it was all about.”

“Come on, Arthur, I distinctly remember you mentioning at least two different girlfriends ever since I started out here at MJN Air. You can’t be seriously suggesting you didn’t at least have an idea as to what was going on there.”

“But,” Arthur pleads, a faint note of distress starting to tinge his voice. “You and Nigel, you’re both married, right?”

Douglas is suddenly reminded of everything he’s managed to piece together about Carolyn’s ex-husband – Arthur’s father – so far, and quickly realises he’d better tread carefully now. “Yes, we are, Arthur. I promise neither of us was seriously planning on cheating on our respective wives; it was more of a hypothetical question, you know – something along the lines of, _who would you rather sleep with if you weren’t married_. Not one out best moments, as far as game material goes, but there you go.”

“Yes, but – I was wondering, how can you tell?”

“How can I tell what, exactly?” It’s Douglas’s turn to start feeling confused, if he’s perfectly honest. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

“That you’d like to, you know. With them.”

“Arthur,” that half-formed idea from a week ago is back now, and it’s getting more and more disturbing by the moment. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never – ”

He trails off, struggling to reassess the situation to the very best of his judgement. “Not,” he hastens to add, “that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, you mean sex,” Arthur nods his head sagely. “Yes, I’ve done that.”

“Right,” Douglas feels pretty much like he’s grasping at straws now, but he’s still determined to see this through, whatever _this_ is. “So, you must have been able to tell, that you wanted to. That you were attracted to them.”

“Well, that was easy. They were my girlfriends, of course I knew I fancied them. How does it work with someone you’ve never even spoken to?”

“Surely, with each of your girlfriends, you had to go through a stage in which they were but strangers you’d only just met?”

Arthur tilts his head to one side, considering. “I suppose so, yeah. I still didn’t know I wanted to have sex with them back then, though.”

“It’s not – you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. You were attracted to them, that’s the point. Doesn’t matter the exact moment you decided to act on it, so to speak.”

“But, I mean – with your wives, you didn’t just – I don’t know, look at someone walking past you on the street and go, _oh, I know I’d like to have sex with them one day_.”

“It was precisely like that with the current Mrs Richardson, in point of fact,” he points out, though he elects to omit the – neither small nor insignificant – detail that he didn’t so much bump into Helena on a stroll through the park as she was one of the bridesmaids at his _second_ wedding.

“Oh. Okay. No, it doesn’t work like that for me at all.”

Douglas can almost _hear_ the wheels inside his own head finally click into gear. His daughter would be appalled if she knew he’d put most of her half-hour lecture on sexual orientations and gender identities out of his mind as soon as she was finished with it, but he hasn’t precisely _forgotten_ it, either. “If I recall correctly, some people experience sexual attraction differently than most. As in, some might not experience it at all, while others do but only occasionally, or under very specific circumstances. I’m not saying that might be your case, but I believe it could be something worth looking into, should you feel like you want to.”

For the longest of moments, Arthur stands stock still, turning the idea over and over in his mind. “Wow,” he exhales at length. “That’s just – wow. Thank you, Douglas.”

Before he knows it, he finds himself with an armful of Arthur, looking for all the world like he’s out on a mission to put the ‘bear’ into ‘bear hug’.

“Oh dear,” Carolyn’s voice makes itself heard from where she’s only just materialised in the doorway, clearly debating whether or not she has the energy to deal with whatever nonsense is going on in there. “Please tell me it’s not Hug Your Pilot Day, again.”

“That’s not even a thing,” Douglas protests, only to think better of it. It’s _Arthur_ they’re talking about, after all.

“Don’t be silly, Mum,” Arthur grins, unrepentant. “That’s not until May.”

“Someone give me strength,” Carolyn huffs under her breath, even as her son plants a quick peck on her cheek and dashes off, only narrowly avoiding knocking Nigel – who appears to have finally found his way back to the Portakabin – over in the process.

“This is going to be a long day,” Nigel announces philosophically to no one in particular, and resumes his usual place behind his desk.


End file.
